


Ubuntu

by signifying_nothing



Series: Words of Devotion [4]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Abuse, Gen, Imprisonment, Magic, Running Away Together, Supernatural Creatures, part of a larger universe, questionable use of mythology, questioning of ones enviromnent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:34:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25476190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/signifying_nothing/pseuds/signifying_nothing
Summary: Keeping the Djinn on a leash was 'difficult enough without the damned thing fighting all the time. It fought the collar, it fought the chains and the magic and the hunters that trapped it—it fought violently, endlessly, tirelessly, even when it was deprived of oxygen, even when it was hosed with water,' apparently. It had burned several hunters in the process of being captured and it continued to burn more while it was in their care. But the heads of the council didn't care if the creature set things on fire—as long as that fire was directed towards their chosen targets.
Series: Words of Devotion [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1790611
Comments: 7
Kudos: 31





	Ubuntu

**Author's Note:**

> Ubuntu: Nguni Bantu  
> Humanity; the quality of being humane.
> 
> 1, i promise that this will make NO SENSE if you haven't read the other stories in the series. i'm really sorry, but they are necessary reading.
> 
> 2, I feel that it's important to note that Djinn/Jinnī are supernatural entities of Arabic origins. In mythology they are generally associated with fire (which is a characteristic I am using,) though specifically I am mostly referencing the characteristics of the Egyptian version of Djinn. Also, as the word Djinn has been anglicized into the word 'genie,' I'm using the noun Djinn to prevent confusion!
> 
> 3, i know you all want to know what the hell was happening in new york. ;]

Keeping the Djinn on a leash was 'difficult enough without the damned thing fightingall the time. It fought the collar, it fought the chains and the magic and the hunters that trapped it—it fought violently, endlessly, tirelessly, even when it was deprived of oxygen, even when it was hosed with water,' apparently. It had burned several hunters in the process of being captured and it continued to burn more while it was in their care. But the heads of the council didn't care if the creature set things on fire—as long as that fire was directed towards their chosen targets.

Baekhyun, as a specialist in magical entities, found the treatment of the Djinn to be abhorrent. His protests against his companions' cruelty went unheard as all of his protests went unheard, save by the men who threatened him with promises of slow and painful deaths if he 'didn't stop complaining about the ways things were done in their clan.'

Baekhyun took great offense to being called a member of the hunters 'clan.' It wasn't like he'd chosen to be here. He hadn't _chosen_ to be lifted out of his library and his books and be told that his knowledge was going to be put to good use for the rest of the world. With the threat of the deaths of his family and friends hanging over his head, Baekhyun had gone.

So now here he is, pursing his lips and watching a few square miles of New York City burn, even though Hongbin Lee is no longer here, Even though they've apparently been chasing him south, probably to where his ex-covenmate is, in New Orleans. There are no laws there save that hunters will not be allowed entrance the city on pain of death, cursing, maiming, and whatever else the creatures determine to be a fit punishment for their trespassing.

But that hasn't stopped the hunters from using the very same creatures they track, hunt and kill to their advantage. They'd obtained the Djinn from a magician in Korea—who had been hoarding the ornate red and gold bottle for a long time—for a very hefty sum; Magicians are different to sorcerers and witches, since they simply _use_ magic instead of existing inside of or living as an active part of it. Baekhyun knows all of this from his research, of course. But he'd never thought he'd have to put it to use out in the 'real world,' as his coworker Kai called it. _Keep inside your books,_ he'd say, ruffling Baekhyun's hair in the most annoying and disrespectful way possible. _The rest of us will stay out here._

But the person Kai is in the compound is very different from the Kai out in the field. Baekhyun has been dragged along as a precaution in case the hunters encounter anything they don't know and therefore can't deal with. It's one thing to hear Kai talk about the Djinn with respect and reverence, speaking of its power, agility, grace and terrifying beauty—it's another thing entirely to watch him handling the Djinn like a ringmaster in a cage with a jaguar. It's awe-inspiring and terrifying.

Kai has been allowed to let the Djinn dance through the few square blocks where the congregation of magic is tightest and closest, and it all burns. Baekhyun can't close his eyes or his ears to the screaming, the crackling of fire, the explosions of glass. A Djinn's fire is not like normal fire. A Djinn's fire _is_ the Djinn, as they are free from the restraints of physical form. That's why it's still 'off-leash,' or as off-leash as they allow it to be.

It's beautiful. It really is. A creature so wild allowed to be wild, to run, to be free if only for a moment but that's the cruelty, isn't it? To finally let a bird out of its cage only to force it back in again. Baekhyun watches in horror as Kai forces the Djinn back into its cage.

It had once been thought that it required magic to force a Djinn back into its bottle; this is not the case. All it takes is will. The sheer unbreakable will of the person who wields the Djinn is all that's needed to bring the magnificent creature to heel, to cower, to scream.

The Djinn's incoherent screams as it attempts to claw at the ground, at the body of the bottle, then at the opening of the neck to slow or prevent its recapture are just as horrifying as the destruction around them. Baekhyun feels tears in his eyes and rushes to wipe them away, not wanting to be seen as weak or vulnerable out here, especially since they'd dragged him out to make use of his knowledge.

Kai closes the bail of the bottle. He lifts the bottle with no hesitation or grace. The thing is unbreakable, magicked to be so—it has to be in order to contain the Djinn—but Kai is still so careless with it, while the other are watching.

It doesn't escape Baekhyun's notice that when the others turn away to gloat at their own violence against the hapless magic of New York, that Kai presses the bottle against his chest, right over his heart. It doesn't escape Baekhyun's notice that Kai tilts his head against the neck and bail closure, for just a moment before placing the bottle into his backpack.

It doesn't escape Baekhyun's notice that Kai treats the bottle—and perhaps its contents—like a precious, precious thing.

~

When they'd handed the Djinn off to Kai, he'd been skeptical. It wasn't like he had any particular inclination towards magic, it wasn't like he had any prior history. But they'd handed the Djinn to him, told him it was his responsibility now, and so Kai had tried to to research.

Kai had never been much of a book learner.

What he'd done instead was take the bottle down to one of their 'magic-proof' rooms—something about tonal vibrations, the wavelength on which magic exists, the secondary space it occupies—Kai hadn't paid much attention to the pseudo-science of it all. He'd taken the bottle down and let the Djinn out and dealt with it the way Kai always deals with things: with force, grace, unbreakable and endless will. He refused to give the Djinn any leeway and eventually, after days and days and weeks and months of the same screaming, writhing, thrashing and clawing, the creature had finally given in.

Its physical form, its real physical form, is beautiful. Like a human with blood that glows, hair made of charcoal and flames, eyes bright yellow and black. No whites. Just black, and a ring of sunfire yellow as its iris. It is this form that the Djinn takes when Kai has it 'collared.' Under control. Powerless.

It seems so powerless in its physical form. _He_ seems so powerless.

The Djinn has modeled his body into something _like_ Kai's. His proportions are different—eyes too big, mouth too wide, neck and limbs too long, torso too skinny—but he looks human enough. In the magic-proof room, Kai lets the Djinn out of his bottle and watches him drag himself out like that movie of the dead girl crawling out of the well. His body moves from a formless mass of vapor and flames into a body. He collapses to the floor, panting, and Kai moves closer to him. Kai has been questioning what his organization has been doing for a while now, but—but tonight had been a _massacre._ Over deaths that happened before Kai was _born,_ all because of one angry witch and frankly, if Kai had found _his_ lover in the state they'd apparently left Chansik Gong—known as Gongchan—in, he probably would have murdered some people, too. What difference did it make that Hongbin Lee had used a storm to facilitate those deaths?

The Djinn drops to the floor like a stone and Kai moves closer, but waits. He waits, because he never touches the Djinn without permission. Kai never puts his hands on him. Not to punish, not to reward—the Djinn must come to him, must ask for a touch.

He is asking, now.

He pulls himself across the cold concrete and falls against Kai's body.

Kaipushes back to lean on the wall and the Djinn follows him, all but laying on top of his legs, the top of his head pressed into Kai's waist, his face turned toward the floor. Kai rubs his hands across the Djinn's back. He has broader shoulders than Kai, a smaller waist. He seems to weigh less than he should for how much physical room his body takes up. But that only means he can lay in Kai's lap for as long as it takes for him to recover, because... Because tonight had been rough. Kai has always known what the rest of the hunters get up to, even though Kai himself is primarily occupied with 'traditional beast hunting,' meaning he does out for things like demon-possessed and mutated animals, ghouls, that kind of stuff. Things that can't really _think,_ whether that's because of the magic occupying their bodies or because they just... Don't.

Kai had killed a so-called direbear last spring. It had come out of hibernation, they'd been told, and been ravaging the town near its territory. But after the crossbows and guns had been fired, Kai had watched in absolute horror as the bear melted away to reveal the hairy and emaciated form of a very big man, indeed. Not a direbear. A werebear. Probably in the bears body for so long that his human mind hadn't yet been able to really reason, so he'd been digging through trashcans looking for an easy meal and due to his size, he'd been called a threat.

They hadn't known, Kai had reasoned. They had no idea—no one had known, not the hunters, not the people of the town.

But then it happened again. A blackdog. A helpless creature of omens, not true viciousness. It had killed a few rabbits and turkeys in a cemetery. People should be allowed to feel safe when they visit their dead loved ones, Kai had thought.

Then the next time, it had been outright. 'We're going to kill these witches,' the hunters had said. 'Are you coming, or are you going to stay here and try to train your new pet.'

Kai had stayed behind. Had vomited and shook and cried that what he'd felt deep in his gut for years was the absolute truth—that they are here to kill _all_ magical creatures save the ones that they could use as weaponry, like the Djinn laying on his legs, now breathing easily, face turned so the bridge of his nose rests under Kai's ribs. Kai runs his fingers through the cool, fire-like hair. He massages the tense shoulders. He wonders how the hell he's going to get out of here, especially with the Djinn in his possession because he's not leaving him behind. It's not even an option, not even conceivable.

Kai feels the abstract communication through his body instead of his ears. _Tired,_ the Djinn feels, his eyelids drooping. _Tired. Hurts. Sad._

“Yeah,” Kai whispers, rubbing at the back of the Djinn's neck. “Yeah I know. I'm sorry. You gonna be okay?”

_Hurts. Sad. Tired. Hate._

The Djinn isn't really speaking to Kai. He doesn't have words the way Kai has them. Kai's been trying to teach him but right now the Djinn is probably too tired to bother with the chore of moving his lips and jaw. His eyelids are drooping, they keep closing and then snapping back open.

“I'm sorry,” Kai says, staring out at the room and feeling his own anger, disgust and devastation ripping at the inside of his ribcage as though his heart is desperate to come out and be separated from him because it hates being inside him, inside this weak, weak man who is afraid of what will happen to him if he tries to run.

Kai could run to New Orleans. The safest of havens. But he's not sure the two of them would make it there. The hunters have built a goddamn _army_ all across the country, and they're not the types to listen to reason. Not most of them, anyway. It's too much of a risk, for himself and for the Djinn. But they need to get out. Kai can't keep doing this—refusing to go out on hunts, feeling sick to his stomach every time he _does_ and it's not an unthinking beast they're killing. It's a person. Someone with identity and reason, someone who can look into Kai's eyes and accuse him of murder—

There is a knock at the door so soft it's like a gasp in the dark. Kai startles so hard the Djinn jerks up, snarling, hair flaring. No one is supposed to be down here. This is what Kai has called 'his Djinn's 'cooldown' time,' a period where they sit in the magicless cold and concrete until 'his Djinn is back under control.' Kai doesn't tolerate interruptions. He never has before, and he's not going to start now.

_Fear. Fear. Hate. Fear._

Kai runs his fingers over the Djinn's shoulder and moves to the door, opening it just the tiniest crack to see who the fuck would dare interrupt him—

It's skinny little Baekhyun. The one they'd plucked up out of his research library and essentially held at gunpoint until he agreed to do as they told him. They'd threatened his family—held the death of his adopted younger brother, Taeyong, especially high. Taeyong is a witch, they'd said. They could kill him anytime they wanted. And doesn't witchery go by association? Can't witches turn those around them into witches simply by having close relationships with them? Perhaps Baekhyun a witch too. Perhaps they should 'take care' of his entire family.

One of the others had told Kai the story of obtainment with a relish that made Kai sick to his stomach. At least Kai had no family to threaten.

“What the fuck do you want?” Kai asks, hating that he sounds more curious than furious. What is Baekhyun doing here? _Why_ is he here? How had he known which room, how had he known Kai would still be here at this hour?

“Let me in,” Baekhyun whispers in return. “Walls have ears.”

Kai opens the door just enough to let the researcher in. He stays at the wall beside the doorframe and Kai can feel that the Djinn is against the far wall, snarling and flaring in what amounts to little more than a threat display in his place where his magic is suffocating.

_FEAR. FEAR. HATE. HURTS. FEAR. RUN RUN RUN._

“I'm sorry,” Baekhyun says. Kai closes the door and sees that Baekhyun is staring right at the Djinn, sustaining eye contact, falling to his knees with a messenger bag held against his chest, his dark hair falling in his eyes. Kai crouches in front of him. Watches him speak.

“I'm so sorry, I—” Baekhyun chokes, puts a hand around his own throat like he suddenly can't breathe, like it's a conscious effort. Kai watches as Baekhyun's hair bleeds into a soft pink, as his eyes turn a light amber, as his nose starts to drip rose quartz blood over his lips

Witch.

Baekhyun is a witch.

Witches exist inside of magic, and it is inside them. It's how they find one another, it's in them like their blood and guts are in them, like it's the very air they breathe.

It's the very air Baekhyun can't breathe.

Kai stares and Baekhyun swallows. It looks and sounds painful as he speaks around slow and purposeful breathing that scrapes down into his lungs. He swallows a few times, wipes under his nose, tries to gather himself.

“I'm going to—to run,” he says, and Kai doesn't have to ask what he is running from. “I've—my family is protected I've—taken every precaution—and I'm running—and you need—need to come with me—I've Seen it—”

Baekhyun has the Sight. The Sight that Hongbin Lee has been so known for, a curse that had crippled him in his younger years that grew into one of his most powerful weapons. There hasn't been a witch with Sight so strong since Hongbin had been born.

But then again, no one would know Baekhyun is so strong. Kai doesn't know when Baekhyun had been born, how long he's been alive. Witches age so slowly. Maybe Baekhyun is _older_ than Hongbin.

“How,” Kai hisses, angry and confused and terrified. “How the hell are you planning to get out of here, there's no way out of this fucking place—”

“Door,” Baekhyun chokes out. “I've built—a door in the—the attic take us out as—as far as I can reach—close to safety close—closer to—” Baekhyun coughs up a mouthful of blood. It shimmers through his fingers where he's attempted to stop it from spilling down his shirt. It spreads all over his chin, his lower cheeks where it drips from his eyes, down his neck where it trickles from his ears.

“Please—” Baekhyun's eyes are rolling back, tightly blinking, opening, like a creature falling asleep, or dying. His voice is getting softer, his breath wheezing. “Please Jongin please—can't wai-wait—”

No one's called him Jongin since he was a child. No one here knows that name. No one is supposed to know that name, anymore.

Behind Kai, the Djinn is coming closer, curious and confused and disgusted and even a little worried.

_Dying. Dying. No breath._

“Back in the bottle, please,” Kai says, shifting to heft Baekhyun up over his shoulder. We need to get out of here—”

The Djinn is already halfway in the bottle. Kai grabs it by the neck, not bothering to close the bail, and pulls the door open, running left to where he knows the stairs to the attic are. He takes the stairs two at a time, praying to whatever god might be listening that no one sees the trail of blood until it's too late, until they're gone. Baekhyun coughs again and Kai feels a rush of hot wet down the back of his shirt.

“Almost there,” he hisses, grabbing the railing for support as he turns the second to last corner, then the last. He sees a plain wooden door frame. He runs towards it. He can hear a group of men behind him, they've been there, they're going to catch him—

Kai hopes to whatever might be listening that the portal Baekhyun has built will work. He runs through it and feels hot, wet air. Feels grass under his body as he falls and tries to make sure he doesn't crush Baekhyun. He looks back at the door and sees the men coming—

Kai watches in awe as the Djinn comes up halfway out of the bottle like the wrath of a demon and sets the door frame on fire with nothing more than his will, burning everything past it until the door frame itself turns to charred splinters of wood and white ashes.

Then he comes out of the bottle, all the way out. Kai thinks for a moment that the Djinn is going to take this opportunity to kill them. But he's dizzy, nauseous from the magic travel, and collapses before he can find out.

~

He understands.

He has always understood.

Men are the same wherever they are, whenever they are, whoever they are. Men are the same. Small. Petty. Greedy. They are foolish. They are weak. They try to keep hold of powers they cannot hope to contain, they do not want from him what he is truly capable of giving.

And yet.

Had he not been tricked, trapped? Had he not raged in silent fury for what felt like eons? Had he not come up out of this wretched bottle, its insides formed of his fear and anger, and come face-to-face with this incredible human, this 'Kai,' a hunter and yet also suspicious of the other hunters, untrustworthy, back-stabbing, as all men are.

Has Kai not proven himself to be _different,_ even in this moment, when he is lying unconscious on the ground after having saved him, the little magic spinner, and himself? He does not regret setting the cage on fire. He hopes that his flames continue to burn with the sheer force of his own hatred for his prison, for the pathetic men who had trapped him in the bottle in the first place, for the men who have been holding Kai by the throat, though he has not been able to see it.

He will have to thank the little magic spinner for opening Kai's eyes to what was happening, because he could not do it himself, too weak from so long captured and held down. The magic spinner had risked his blood, his very self and the magic that connected him to the world to do so. Yes, the little magic spinner deserves just as much reward as Kai, even if not for the same reasons. He will give it to them, when he gains the strength to do so. The magic spinner, and Kai.

Jongin, the magic spinner had called him. Perhaps that is his true name? Names are so important to men. They all mean something, represent something. Perhaps, when the two of them wake from a healing sleep, they will give him a name. He has never had a name before. It simply hasn't mattered. He is a force of nature, of physic and physical power as well as communication, both chaste and sensual love. He is not a man.

Yet if his closest companions are these men, then he should accept any name they choose to give him. It is a mark of ownership, is it not? Ownership of self. He has always been aware of himself. He has known what he does but perhaps not why he does it, perhaps not... Fully informed of his reasons to exist. They can teach him, he is sure. He will take a name from them, any name they give him, and he will call them by their true names, and perhaps the bottle—the ugly miserable prison where he raged and hoped and wished to be set free—will be destroyed at last. No longer a threat. No longer a fear.

No longer will it be a prison to hold him to an owner.

Instead of having an owner, he will ask Kai and the little magic spinner for a piece of jewelry. A necklace or earrings made with gold and pearls, both to denote his station as superior to men, but also as a mark of devotion. Perhaps with representation of Bastet. He remembers that he was a priest in her temple before his death. He remembers Anubis, weighing his heart. The longer he has been free from the bottle the more he recalls what he is, what he once was. He doesn't remember a name, though. He has already made himself a physical body, but a piece of jewelry and a name, this is what he will ask for. This is what will make him a true 'self,' existing properly in the world of men.

So he kneels beside the bodies of Kai and the little magic spinner. He arranges them on their backs but does not cross their arms. They are not dead, headed for the embalmer. Only sleeping.

He folds his legs, closes his eyes. He sits above their heads and prepares himself to sink deep into his own thoughts. Perhaps to reach out and touch their minds while they sleep. To give them quiet, pleasant dreams of warm contact and feelings of love.

It is what he would wish to dream of, if he still dreamed. But he will have to settle for gifting those feelings to them, as he is meant to do. It will be a pleasant task. It will fill him with joy the likes of which he has not known in so many thousands and thousands of years.

They will sleep, and he will wait.

They will sleep, and he will wait, eyes closed, heart and soul and mind opening up like the sun climbing over the dunes, casting long shadows of joshua trees and streaking yellow branches up through a dark blue sky.


End file.
